


something deep down in the middle

by damnromulans (beastofaburden)



Series: something deep down in the middle [1]
Category: Star Trek: Alternate Original Series (Movies)
Genre: F/M, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-03-25
Updated: 2013-03-25
Packaged: 2017-12-06 11:21:26
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,031
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/735100
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/beastofaburden/pseuds/damnromulans
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Jim isn't sure when this turned into a competition. All he knows is that it did, and he's so grateful he could fucking cry.</p>
            </blockquote>





	something deep down in the middle

**Author's Note:**

> SO MUCH UNREPENTANT PORN. I wrote this because [Mandy](http://whitelaws.tumblr.com/) DID THE THING and made a fanmix and alternative Empire cover art and suggest OT4 sex to me. It was this or study. Porn won out. Porn always wins out. And it turned emotional at the end??? I don't even know anymore.

Jim isn't exactly sure when this turned into a competition. All he knows is that it did, and he's so grateful he could fucking cry.

Or maybe that's just the way that Uhura is rolling her hips in tight circles, so fucking tight and slick around his cock, with nails raking down his chest, back arched in such a way that he's sitting so _deep_ that he knows she's just working him against that good spot. The best (or the worst) part of it is that he knows she's not even thinking about him, just fucking playing him without a care, eyes trained firmly on the armchair in the corner of the room. 

But it's not like Jim can really blame her. Not with the way Bones is working his mouth around Spock like damn pro, still in his fucking uniform because he knows that it gets Spock off, seeing those stripes blur when he pumps him roughly between sucks and licks. Spock's a fucking sight too, pants around his ankles, flush running beneath pale skin, hand fisted tight in McCoy's hair, mouth open and panting and grunting with every twitch of his hips like he can't even help himself.

Jim screws his eyes shut. Uhura's laugh at that, high and tinkling breathless, dripping in ecstasy, is almost too much.

"He's getting close, Leonard," she calls out. "Care to quit whilst you're ahead?"

With an obscene slurp, Bones pulls his mouth away from Spock's cock and throws his reply over his shoulder.

"Not a chance, darlin'." Jesus _God_ , Bones sounds so beautifully wrecked that Jim can't even help but whimper. Uhura looks back at him at the noise, widens her smile into something gorgeous and feral as she begins to piston herself mercilessly onto him. Every thrust pushes a tiny gasp from her throat, and Jim wants nothing more than to sit up and take her hips in his hands and lick at the sweat collecting between her breasts. He can't though, he just _can't_ , it's too much and she's too beautiful and he can hear Bones murmuring encouragement to Spock, is probably breathing the words right over his cock, and then she throws her head back and _moans_ and Spock makes a noise that can only mean one thing, but hey, Jim's in no place to judge seeing as how he comes right after with a throaty shout.

Jim is vaguely aware of Uhura shifting away from him, of a dip in the side of the bed, the slick noise of a kiss, hazy and smiling and _fucked_. The last thing he hears before he lets sleep take him is Bones' throaty laugh.

"Looks like I win."

~ 

Jim's making his way back to the bridge after a routine trip to Engineering. When the turbolift stops on Deck 6, Jim barely has enough time for a "Hey Bones" before he finds himself unceremoniously pushed into the back wall and the lift stopped. The door slides shut with Bones' hand fisted in the collar of his shirt and face set in a predatory glare.

"Captain. You free tonight?"

Jim doesn't even try and stop the probably fucking idiotic smile that creeps onto his face. "I'll have to check my schedule, Dr. McCoy."

At that, Bones just takes a step forward, slots his leg between Jim's thighs. Jim inhales sharply, too taken with the feel of Bones all up and down his form, the smell of his cologne, the way he can't even move from the weight pressing him against the wall. And as if that wasn't enough to give him a hard-on that would last him well through the rest of his shift, Bones, the bastard, he starts to _talk_.

"You do that, Jim-boy. Ask that First Officer of yours if there's anything important that needs attending to tonight. And you'd best ask Lieutenant Uhura if there's anything she needs, too - fine woman like her, probably doesn't need the help, but I'm sure she'll appreciate the thought."

Jim's trying not to rub himself off against Bones' leg at the thought of what he has planned, at the growl in his voice. But if nothing else, he's a tactician - attack, counter-attack. Know your enemy. And he knows Bones, knows him better than anything in the fucking galaxy. He's not going to he the only one walking out of this lift with a dent in his pants.

"What about me, Bones? I have things I needs too, you know. Need you. Need you to kiss me, touch me. Need you all the time, can't stop thinking about you, want you to fuck me-"

"Pretty words from a pretty boy," Bones _growls_ and Jim's heart dances a little jig in his chest, God, he wants it right the fuck now and he knows that Bones does too, leans forward to take Bones' mouth.

All he gets is the slightest brush of lips before Bones steps away completely, opens the lift doors. Jim is left bereft and fucking _furious_ against the wall. 

"My quarters. 2100 hours." 

The door slides shut and the lift carries on its way. His thoughts, on the other hand, stay in the one place for the rest of the damn shift.

~

Of course, best laid plans and all that. A chemical spill in engineering keeps Bones from his quarters well after 2100 hours. Jim knows that he’ll be exhausted from surgeries, knows that his mind will still, in some part, be with the people in his sickbay, no matter what. 

This does not discourage Spock and Uhura in the slightest. Anything _but_.

Jim would do more to greet Bones when he arrives home later that night. Really. The thing is, between the relentless pound of Spock’s hips against his ass, and the taste of Uhura almost fucking dripping onto his face, he can’t quite seem to muster the energy.

“Doctor.” Spock’s voice is tight but still steady, almost challenging. He’s always like that with Bones, especially when he has Jim like this. It’s always fucking amazing. “Your medical expertise is needed.”

“Is it now?” 

Jim registers the clinking of glass from the edge of the room, the measured pour of a drink. He can’t really see anything past Uhura right now, but he knows exactly what Bones is doing, what they so often do when one of them is worn down and strained - settling in the armchair, legs spread, drink settled on the armrest, taking in the show.

“What would you like to know, Mr. Spock?” Bones sounds wholly unaffected by the writhing mass in front of him. Clinical detachment, and all that.

“I am curious as to which method of stimulation-” Jim _swears_ he jabs his hips just a little harder at the word, whimpers helplessly into Uhura who shivers in turn “-will produce the most immediate orgasm. The Captain insisted that Lieutenant would be the first to achieve climax this evening. I respectfully disagreed.”

McCoy chuckles, a low, dragging, lick of a thing, and Jim fists his hands in the blankets at the sound of it.

“I thought the Lieutenant and I sorted this the other night?”

“Wasn’t conclusive.” Uhura grabs a fistful of Jim’s hair as she says it, brings him in closer, twitches her hips as he sucks eagerly at her clit. “The sample size was all off.”

Jim takes the opportunity to pull back for a breath, looks up the length of Uhura’s body with a messy smirk.

“You seemed to like my sample size just _fine_.”

Uhura only rolls her eyes and wrenches him back to work. Spock, of course, takes this opportunity to wrap a warmer-than-human hand around Jim’s flushed cock. His hips lever themselves off the bed at his, too much, too good, and the heat in his spine coils when Spock’s in-and-out-and-in quickens too.

“Well, I don’t know what you want me to tell you.” Bones doesn’t sound so cool now, bourbon warming his throat and eyes raking over the bed. Jim always feels stupidly happy to hear that voice lose its harshness, like the tang of a pill sweetened by honey. “I mean, you and I both know that Jim’ll come easy if you keep touching him like that. He likes it when you forget to be gentle, you know. So do I. Sometimes I think that’s the only reason we all fight so much, just so we can work it off later.”

There’s no mistaking the urgency which moves Spock now, and Jim just knows he’s there, eyes shut, trying desperately not to be too overcome by all the skin and touch and feeling flowing through him right now but it’s never that easy. Bones probably knows it too, and keeps talking all the while.

“On the other hand, Nyota here won’t accept anything but Jim’s best. And he’d be a fool to want to give her anything less – we all know how she tastes. What it’s like to have her fall apart in your hands. Goddamn addictive, is what it is.”

There’s a moment, when Jim knows Bones is taking a sip of his drink, considering. And then:

“Touch her, Spock.”

Spock’s hand leaves Jim’s cock, Uhura’s the back of his head, and when Spock exclaims in a language that’s dry and twisting he knows that they’re communicating, hands joined over his prone from, mind-to-mind, heart-to-heart. What he doesn’t notice, not until it’s too late, is Spock’s hand leaving the back of Jim’s knee and closing around one of his fists in the sheets.

Suddenly, he’s there with them – wherever _there_ is, because it feels like everywhere and nowhere, like the coldest day in the hottest desert, like the deepest ocean trench and the breathlessness of space, rushing and pulsing and _bright_ , so fucking bright.

By the time he comes back to himself, Uhura and Spock have fallen to the side and tangled together. Spock has his head buried in the crook of Uhura’s neck – Uhura’s eyes flutter open just long enough to catch Jim’s. She offers him a slight, but warm, smile, and tilts her head towards the corner of the room before slipping back into rest.

Jim rolls onto his stomach – it’s probably closer to a flop, but he hardly thinks it matters – and blinks blearily at the man in the armchair. 

“So, who won?”

“I think I did. Again.”

Jim’s quickly losing his battle with consciousness, but he’s not so far gone that he can’t see that Bones hasn’t even undone his uniform pants. The drink is gone, though.

That stirs him. He pulls himself off the bed, somehow, pads over to Bones on unsteady feet. The drop to his knees at Bones’ feet is almost welcome.

“Jim, you don’t-”

“I want to.” He goes for the fastenings at Bones’ trousers. Bones _is_ hard, sort of, but he’s also pretty tired. Jim can rectify this. Unfortunately, Bones doesn’t give him the chance – he takes Jim by the wrists and pulls him up straight on his knees, shuffles forward in the chair and bends down to meet him in the middle.

“Wasn’t about that,” he murmurs, before shaking his head in a way that Jim knows is fond. “You’re a fucking mess, kid.”

“I think that means I was doing it right.”

Bones doesn’t reply. He leans in an presses his lips against Jim’s, releases his wrists to cup his jaw. It would be chaste, almost, with barely a flicker of tongue and a softness that could be confused for vulnerability. The thing is, though, Jim knows that Bones can still taste Uhura on him, can feel the slight tremor in his skin as he comes down from the intense display of touch-telepathy. 

There’s no jealousy in it. No uncertainty. But this is Bones staking his own claim, a reminder – _what’s ours is ours_ , he’d said, after the very first time they tumbled into bed together. Because Spock might be the ice to his fire, and Uhura might be shining, graceful steel, but their kisses don’t taste like bourbon and the Bay air and a new life. 

Jim smiles against Bones’ lips, wraps his fingers in the hem of his shirt. 

They are heart, but Bones is home.


End file.
